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IT was a Highland chieftain's son Gazed sadly from the hill: And they saw him shrink from the autumn wind, As its blast came keen and chill.
His stately mother saw, - and spoke With the heartless voice of pride; "T'is well I have a stouter son The border wars to ride."
His jealous brother saw, and stood, Red-haired, and fierce, and tall, Muttering low words of fiendish hope To be the lord of all.
But sickly Allan heard them not, As he looked o'er land and lea; He was thinking of the sunny climes That lie beyond the sea. 2
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